


Trouble Magnet

by IreneClaire



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Steve, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Worried Danny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneClaire/pseuds/IreneClaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets into a bit of trouble while fixing his Marquis. Alone and stuck in his shed, he's out of options until someone remembers that he's missing. A bit of Steve whump/angsty Danny. Some poor language. Just a silly twiddle (which means it's not 20 chapters long!).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyndalanz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyndalanz/gifts).



> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

**Chapter One**

 

It didn't take long to be bored of looking at the shed's rusted aluminum ceiling. It also didn't take long for his lower back to start to ache, nor for more than just his legs to get antsy. He sighed when he courageously lifted his hand to glare at his watch … _again_ … for the tenth time in as many minutes. When it had first happened, a spike of initial shock had led to a bout of very real laughter. But now he wasn't laughing.

His accidental predicament at the hands of his own Marquis had him settled on angry.

Steve levered himself up onto his elbows to stare mutely at his right leg; or at least what he could see of it. Everything from his knee down disappeared beneath the awkwardly canted undercarriage of the large car. His left leg similarly disappeared from view, however it wasn't snagged or stuck the way his right seemed to be. Steve purposefully wiggled his body on the creeper and literally got nowhere. The Craftsman forty-inch rolling padded mechanics board was a blessing to use when working on the Marquis. With its six rollers, he could move back and forth or from side to side under his car with incredible ease. In seconds, he could scoot out and grab the tool he'd left on the ground and resume work with a flick of his heels.

Danny had given the board to him for his birthday and Steve loved the thing on sight. In a big way, he loved it even more at the moment for its fully padded backrest and the way it conformed to his upper body to reduce stress. But in the next breath, he also distinctly hated it.

A cocky and much too thoughtless flick of an errant heel to push his upper body clear of the car's undercarriage to grab a different wrench had accidentally knocked the metal frame of his creeper into the ratcheted car jack. As the two connected, something in the metal teeth of the ratchet had shifted loose. There was a shuddering and a rapid fire clacking as the metallic tooth let go with an astonishing speed and the jack had crashed down to its fourteen inch base height.

At fourteen inches, Steve still could have continued his rapid slide out from under the Marquis and escaped entrapment - if he had simply been flat out on the dirt floor of his shed. But with the Marquis now canted at on odd angle and with Steve elevated on the comfortable low-slung creeper, those extra valuable inches had been consumed to trap his right leg just enough where he was aptly stuck in place.

"God. Damn. It!" Steve cursed at his ridiculous mess, once more using both hands on his jeans in an attempt to wrench his right right leg out from where it remained pinned. Other than the sting of his injured pride, he wasn't physically hurt. In fact, though his right ankle was twisted a bit, he likely hadn't even torn his pants. But he was incredibly stuck beyond all reasonable measure.

There was a small amount of light emanating from under the car. The light was from his LED rechargeable work lamp which miraculously hadn't broken during the freak accident. However, the light did him no good since he couldn't see the right side of the creeper or the base of the jack for the heavy shadows and how the Marquis had come to rest on such a one-sided tight slant.

In his half seated position, Steve studied the car's undercarriage and gave up on his leg to attempt moving the creeper out from under his body. "Just … a few inches," he muttered as he tried to shift off the long padded backboard. But the frame was long to accommodate his equally long body. With a portion of it under the car, part of its metal frame was also wedged under some invisible portion of the car where it completely refused to budge.

"Oh, come on!" Steve panted as he alternately tried to move his body off the padded frame and then force the creeper to move either from side to side or even backwards. A frustrated thought had him attempting a weird shimmy forward to get more of his body under the car, but even that resulted in nothing except skinned hands. No matter his efforts, the comfortable backboard refused to dislodge itself even an inch in any direction.

Flopping back down, Steve clenched his jaw stubbornly as he opted to dig and kick at the frame with his left booted heel. His hands clenched around the sides of the creeper, turning white at the knuckles as he vainly forced his left heel to bang into the metal frame or scrape along its lower wheels. But the angle was bad and he had no momentum to gain.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Steve yelled now. Shouting to no one and directly up into his shed's aluminum roof, he kicked harder and winced as his left knee knocked painfully into the metal undercarriage. He missed the frame entirely to slam his knee again, growling in frustration when his left calf muscle joined to object his furious abuse. Sweat dripped down his face to sting his eyes as he regained a semblance of self-control. He glared at his father's red and battered Champ box which lay casually off to his side. It was within easy reach, but its meager contents gave him nothing to work with.

With an aggravated sigh he reached out instead to roll the bar from the jack into his palm where he hefted it. As the jack let go, the bar had popped out when the jack's base had simultaneously disappeared under the car's frame. He couldn't see the base and then if he might, he had no room to even wend the bar in to try to lift the car again. He also had his doubts as to the condition of the base and how much of the car it was holding up on his behalf. He was tempted to force the bar under the Marquis to investigate other options, but something warned him that if the base or something else was not exactly the way it should be, he'd inadvertently do more damage than good. So instead, he held the bar in a state of indecision on how to best proceed until his anger perked to the surface.

"This isn't happening!" Steve bellowed again in absolute frustration as he dropped the bar to try one more mighty yank on his right leg, only stopping when an uncomfortable cramp in his thigh muscle advised him of the ill movements. He stopped and forced himself to a near-seated position again, gasping at the unexpected ache in his thigh.

"Fine," he muttered, opting to institute another plan which hadn't precisely worked the first time. His palm rubbed the wounded muscle until the tension released itself and then he retrieved the long metal bar. A tiny shift allowed him to peer uncomfortably over his right shoulder where he could see the elevated workman's table which ran the length of the shed's wall. Other than a few typical mechanic's tools, this was his best option to at least reach his cell phone which was perched on the workman's table. Laying himself flat again on the creeper, Steve awkwardly cocked his head backwards on the creeper's padded headrest to eye his now upside down cell phone and the bottle of water sitting so resolutely next to it. He had already tried this stupendous idea and failed miserably, but he needed to try again. With two hands, Steve tried to hyper-extend his torso backwards along his padded bed. He gained an inch or two as he hefted the bar over his head with both hands in an attempt to knock his cell phone or even the water bottle down off the table.

"Come on, come on, …" Steve chanted as he wriggled his body and waggled the bar which missed the workman's table by a decent five inches of open air. "Hit ... _something_! Damn it!" In frustration, he reached and swept the bar in a wide arc over his head and at a lower angle, hoping to connect with at least the metal legs of the long table.

"Really? Really? Just give me … something! _Anything_!" Steve begged the aluminum ceiling as the bar met zero resistance because he was just far enough away from anything of value in the shed. Panting from exertion, he stopped when the burn from his shoulders and painful kink in his neck demanded that he cease the stupidity of his actions.

"This isn't happening," he muttered in disbelief. With his hands still over his head, he allowed the bar to sink to the hard-packed dirt floor of the shed where he finally let it go to roll loosely from his fingers.

"Think. _Think_ … what can you do?" Steve dismally clutched his hair while shaking his head incredulously. No one was going to miss him until Monday. Danny had Grace for the weekend and both cousins were helping some other cousin move from an apartment to a newly purchased house somewhere near Punchbowl. His own plans had been rather boringly mundane, at least up until the jack had slipped.

Pulling back up into to his half-seated position, Steve looked around his immediate area in a vain attempt to gain more ideas. Over an hour of his imprisonment had gone by on this otherwise peaceful Friday evening and he'd already made a stockpile of available tools. His issue was that not one of them was going to be useful. Another search was going to be fruitless, and he well knew that fact. But in all reality, he couldn't accept it since he was becoming more and more disconcerted by his sheer lack of options. And as night fell in earnest, an odd sense of desperation was slowly sinking in.

"Danno," Steve sighed out as he rubbed an oil-stained hand over his face. A small smile flit across his lips because no matter how this story wound up, he would never … _ever_ … hear the end of it.

"Danny," he sighed again, tapping his hand rhythmically against the study frame of the six-wheeled cushioned mechanic's creeper cart he was currently forced to lay upon. It was a pretty piece of equipment with its shiny black frame and deep red padding. It contoured comfortably to his body and included an adjustable padded head rest which made him smirk before a giggle escaped his mouth. Though it did him absolutely no good, he could actually raise his head and shoulders.

"You just had to get me the cadillac of creepers, buddy?" He chuffed the giggle down, but for a time, an amused smile remained plastered on his lips. He envisioned hearing his partner's very first words and this time had to agree: _"Trouble magnet, Steven!"_

"Yeah, this time you'd be right, Danno," Steve smirked softly until his smile lost its warmth. "Trouble times two." With nothing constructive to do, Steve forced himself to lay back down on his unfortunate bed.

"Could be worse," Steve groused to the ceiling. His gift was long and fit his body like a glove from head to well past the backs of his thighs. Despite not being able to move, he was currently fairly comfortable. However, laying on it wasn't how he wanted to spend any number of long hours while wedged so firmly under his car. He wasn't happy at all, yet he had to resolve himself to eventually being found.

 _Someone_ would miss him.

Someone.

Sometime soon. _Right_?

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	2. Chapter 2

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

**Chapter Two**

 

"I'm so sorry, Monkey. Really, I am." As his own feelings of distress rose, Danny made a face when Grace stared at him with a look that combined both an incredulous surprise and a strange vein of doubt. He had purchased tickets to a now sold out concert which was suddenly and without preamble being postponed due to the main act's unfortunate announcement of a severe illness.

"She's _sick_?" Grace jutted her chin out in his direction, folding her arms and beginning what looked like the mother of all petulant huffs beginning. "How can she be sick? She's a _star_ , Danno! Stars don't get _sick_! We've had these tickets for months! We're on line to go in. How can they just cancel it like this?"

She had spent days deciding what to wear and then hours getting ready. Seconds before leaving, she had inconceivably pelted back to her bedroom to change into something entirely different. Grace was excited; more than excited that her father had planned ahead and scored tickets to a coveted sold-out concert. Grace was envied by her friends. By default, that sweet act had also made Danno a star in her eyes. He was thrilled by her ongoing delight. But now as they stood in line to enter the venue with what seemed like thousands of other pre and early teen girls, concert organizers were unbelievably calling the big event off.

"I know … I know, Monkey, and I totally understand." Nevertheless, Danny was helpless to fix this particular issue. "There's nothing anyone can do about it." The entire crowd was in a turmoil and being asked to leave in an orderly fashion pending release of some future _to be announced_ dates.

Disappointment clouded her eyes as he shrugged and parroted back the information being shared up and down the long queue. "No one can help being sick, Grace. Not even a famous singer and I'm sure she doesn't want to have laryngitis bad enough to disappoint all of her fans. Once the new concert dates are figured out, we'll come back."

Grace's face morphed from incredulous to utter blackness as the general announcement was confirmed and then reconfirmed through the throng. She understood, but was still annoyed nonetheless. As a girl her age burst into tears, Grace's own temper got the better of her.

"Now what?" Grace tried not to sound so plaintive, but other girls were now actually crying as their disappointment flared like a virus. Danny's face paled as he was jostled accidentally by a mother with a sobbing child in each hand. His eyes widened as he offered Grace a nervous smile and that almost made her more angry. She was upset and extremely disappointed, however there was no way she was going to cry and act like a baby.

With a pout that bespoke her stormy mood, Grace crossed her arms over her chest before smartly turning on her heel. "This … totally stinks … Danno! It's not fair!"

"I know, I know. But it can't be helped." Danny puffed his cheeks full with air before blowing it out as a fluttery sound. His daughter was blatantly upset and beautifully dressed; she had been looking forward to this special concert since the day he'd so happily pushed the tickets under her nose. He caught up to her, begging for her hand as children and parents milled about on their way back out to the main parking lots.

"How about dinner? A movie?" He made the offers while his mind raced to find suitable options for the tragedy. "We could do both? You look much too beautiful tonight to just go home. What sounds like fun to you, Grace?"

"I don't know. Nothing," she mumbled while she miserably swung his hand during their walk back to where they had parked. Her heart had been pinned on going to her first ever concert. Nothing was going to be good or right even though she knew her Danno was trying hard to already make up for the temporary loss. She was moody, upset and simply couldn't help feeling the way she did.

"I promise we'll come back once they announce the new dates," Danny repeated as they got into his car. "Let's go out for a special dinner. Alright, Monkey? We can go anywhere you'd like." He tweaked her nose gently, coaxing a reluctant smile out of her and proud that she hadn't dissolved into a flood of tears as he watched other parents walking by with screeching, disappointed little girls.

Danny winced as an ill-timed wail came in through his driver's side window to deafen his left ear as a lone, frantic father touted a distraught daughter towards a distant vehicle. The father was juggling a cell phone and Danny could imagine the desperate call to the child's mother. He peeled his right eye open to shoot Grace a pleading look should she suddenly decide to join that dark side.

"Please. Just. Don't." His finger came up in warning, but instead Grace was beginning to giggle and shaking her head. He flinched again as another shrill chalkboard-like sob echoed across the parking lot. He tentatively grinned and her giggle became a laugh as he made a show of covering his ears with both hands.

"Danno! I don't like it. But no, I won't do _that_!" Grace laughed openly at his dramatic and overly thankful eye-roll aimed towards the heavens.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

 

Sometime during the initial advent of nightfall, Steve discovered what would eventually become his greatest issue.

Thirst.

His last meal had been a meagre lunch, so sure he was hungry but he could live with that inconvenience. However, only able to see the unopened water bottle on the workman's shelf behind him was becoming a very major problem. His agitation and desperate measures to free himself had expended his energy and left him a sweaty mess. And though the night air was relatively cool, if he wasn't found on Saturday and before high noon, the aluminum shed was going to become unbearable.

His cell phone had also rung a few times and then chimed to indicate that a message had been left once or twice. But there was no way for him to reach his device and something in his mental clock warned him that the battery was soon to die.

"Maybe the calls were important," Steve muttered upwards. A pensive expression crossed his face as a few possibilities crossed his mind. "Danny might need something. He might call … maybe he did call. Or, he'll want to stop by."

The thought was nice, yet not likely based upon his friend's standing plans with his daughter. Steve made a sad face, one hand idly tapping his chest as he continued to gaze upwards while continuing his soliloquy. "The concert's long over by now, though. He and Grace are probably in bed … sleeping. "

While musing, his hands were soon leisurely folded over his chest, fingers inter-laced as he tried to doze. However, he was now far from being truly comfortable with his back seizing and his right leg beginning to cramp from its forced position. His right ankle was throbbing from its immovable position and he grimaced as the burn began to trace into his instep, the top of his foot and upwards into his calf muscle.

"I wonder how the concert was," he sighed to himself, trying to offer anything as a lame distraction when the fiery ache refused to lessen. Over the hours, Steve had tried multiple times to free his ankle from the undercarriage. He'd even begun to dig up the hard-packed dirt from under the rear wheels of the creeper, but a few screwdrivers and a socket wrench weren't close to doing the trick. The soil was as hard as concrete and his attempts had literally scratched the surface to no avail. His fingers were bruised and one was also now bleeding where he'd torn a knuckle in an attempt to unscrew the actual wheels to the low-riding creeper. But he not only lacked the right equipment, the screws to the wheels were under the frame and he couldn't see them, let alone physically reach them. Making that concept worse, his own weight was firmly clamping the wheels unrelentingly into the ground.

Out of luck and now out of viable options to save himself, Steve could only pray that someone would miss him before Monday morning dawned.

Peering backwards over the top of his head, Steve looked blandly at the faint outline of the water bottle. Night had well fallen and the only light inside the shed came from the LED rechargeable work lamp which had begun to dim at an alarming pace.

He could see enough of the water bottle to at least know it was still there. The reminder was a cruel tease and he cursed softly under his breath. He dismally looked around the shed from his low vantage point, continually seeing nothing of value to be of help. He was about to mentally question the work lamp's remaining power supply when it simply flickered and then dimmed to nothing, plunging the shed into total darkness.

"Well," Steve chuffed in disgust at the perfection of the batteries' ability to fail as if by mere thought. It was a shame his leg, the creeper or even the Marquis couldn't see fit to do the same and obey him on his behalf.

"That was my answer," he smirked into the night. "Thank you … thank you so much."

With nothing to do except pine away the hours, Steve tried to doze. His eyes would close until a painful burr would seize the ball of his foot. Or worse yet, his calf would begin its resentful ping just before a severe cramp would bunch his muscles into a merciless ball of iron. There was no doubt the pain was bad and he'd wind up his half seated position grappling for the area senselessly.

Steve elbowed himself upright just before the next violent leg cramp shot upwards from his ankle and into the core of his calf muscle.

"Ahhh! Man!" He groaned loudly as he dug his fingers into his thigh and down to his knee, stopped by the metal of his car. His toes had no recourse in the boot when his tendons tried to force them to curl painfully inwards at the same time. A cold sweat broke out across Steve's forehead and tears came to his eyes as the knot refused to loosen despite his best efforts at willing his entire leg to relax. It was a useless and agonizing pain that left him nauseous and panting by the time it abated.

"I can't stay here," he moaned to himself. He couldn't lay idly there and just wait. The relative coolness of the night was something he needed to use because ... if things continued ... there would be no better time. His best tool continued to be the bar used for the jack and he felt around for where he had left it on the ground by his side. He couldn't see in the darkness, but he knew where he lay by rote. Using the bar as a lever, he pushed and pried against the Marquis as if his brute force would free either the creeper or himself. Desperate and angry by the failure, he felt along the black frame and briefly experimented to confirm his next strikes. Then, he devoted his efforts to whacking the creeper's ball-bearing wheels and its black metal frame.

The sound of metal on metal clanged loudly in the small space. With his eyes closed in grim concentration, he hammered the same spots repetitively. The din he created echoed in his head and he felt the reverberation in his hands, wrists and forearms as he struck what he could reach, again and again. Face-reddened and sweating profusely, he alternated his attacks against unyielding metal and ... lost.

Steve's breath finally dissolved into harsh discordant gasps as sweat streaked his face and dampened his trembling hands. He only stopped when he could barely grip the bar. It slipped through his fingers to finally fall to the ground.

"I can't," he whispered, hanging his head so that this chin touched his chest and he gulped in a huge lungful of air. His scored hands lay limply in his lap except for their final reactive tremble leftover from the hard vibrations. Steve groaned in frustration and disbelief as the once comfortable creeper kept him trapped in the same unforgiving place. A glance towards his illuminated watch informed him that it was just after two o'clock in the morning and he was sure that he was going to go crazy despite years of ingrained professional training.

But that training, by its own virtue, had a distinct point. He had been taught how to maintain a very serious means to achieve any number of equally important ends. This situation was a ludicrous freak accident and a completely ridiculous misadventure. He was curiously stranded in his own backyard with help a mere few inches away. Even if the jack might have been defective, he only had his own carelessness to blame.

Sitting hunched over, he was exhausted - more thirsty than before - and completely done.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	3. Chapter 3

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

**Chapter Three**

 

"Hiking?" Danny made a disgruntled face which neatly mimicked the one his daughter had lobbed his way from the prior night's disappointing concert fiasco. The coffee cup he'd been happily hugging in both hands somehow found itself plunked forgotten to the table. For a long moment, he didn't say another word as he rolled the unpleasant suggestion around in his mind. Grace was sitting across from him at the kitchen table and on the verge of finishing a pile of pancakes when she announced her preferred plans for the day much to his immediate chagrin. "You want to go … _hiking_? Today? Seriously, or this some sort of cruel joke?"

"Just a short one, Danno," Grace shrugged while attacking the last of her impressive breakfast. Syrup oozed off the sides of the plate, leaving a sticky mess wherever it had landed. "Maybe Uncle Steve could come? Do you think he would?"

"Steve." Danny slammed his mouth shut before quizzically cocking his head in askance in his daughter's direction. "Now, I know this is a joke ... or maybe it's your idea of payback for the concert being canceled?"

Coming from Grace's lips, hiking was an odd request; inviting Steve out of the blue was another not so subtle hint. Grace clearly had something up her sleeve as a coy smile pursed her lips with a faked thoughtful air. She was also refusing to look directly at him. Instead she focused solely on the gooey mess she'd made with her syrup by trying to blot it with her paper napkin.

"Hiking? Of all things to suggest, why that? Why do you want to ask Uncle Steve to go hiking on our weekend?" He called her bluff, carefully smiling at her happy expression but leery of what was to come. "What did you two talk about last, Monkey? And why does this feel like a total setup?"

"I dunno," she giggled, abandoning the soiled napkin to meet the playfulness in his eyes head-on. Her second shrug was full of that same comical laughter which she now couldn't hide at all as Danno pretended to sternly fold his arms over his chest and waited for her to explain more. She knew precisely what her father's reaction was going to be once she made her statement, and she wasn't disappointed when his mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Uncle Steve promised to show me the petroglyphs."

They were having a long lazy morning with no real plans in mind. However when Danny had calmly questioned what they might do together, he hadn't expected the conversation to take such a drastic turn. What Grace was saying now was beyond mind-boggling and as more syllables fell from his daughter's mouth, Danny didn't quite know how to respond.

"Today seems like a good day. So, why not?" Grace sweetly added. "I bet Uncle Steve would say yes."

The concert had been the original highlight of the weekend and the rest of their time was an open book. Still, a hike was a surprising enough suggestion. But when the import of her words sank in - all of which included Uncle Steve - Danny's eyes bulged.

"Uncle Steve. The petroglyphs. He promised that he take you _there_? That so-called hike constitutes child abuse in every way known to man. Did he mention the word ' _race_ ' to you, too? It's some ridiculous timed event for your Uncle Steve! Even at a reasonable pace, it's in no way a short walk through the park," Danny objected, his rant growing as he rediscovered his tongue while gesturing wildly.

Grace giggled in response as his hands bolted from where they'd been tucked against his body to flail through the air. "Besides, that hike didn't actually end well for Uncle Steve that day. Ropes, broken arms and rescue helicopters, Gracie! That's how it ended and you can ask your Uncle Chin if you need proof."

"But that's why he wants to go again," Grace gushed happily. "He told me about the cool paintings on the wall and I want to see them. Please, Danno? Can you call and ask Uncle Steve if we could go today?"

Biting back a grumble of distress, Danny dutifully checked the time though every fiber of his being was protesting the idea. It was well past mid morning and the sun was shining brightly. They could do any number of other less stressful things. Yet before he could question a better visit to the beach, Grace was interrupting the very thought.

"I don't want to go to the beach and it will be cooler in the park. We could have a picnic," Grace pushed, her counter-argument a sound one. Her fork was down now and her plate empty. Her eyes were full of an earnest plea which indicated just how interested she truly was in the idea. "Besides, I want to see Honu. Please?"

Danny closed his eyes against Grace's ongoing pleas which were now suspiciously sounding like begging. He sighed heavily, resorting to resting his chin in the depths of his palm. He knew that his partner was only working on the Marquis that weekend and would likely jump at the opportunity for some exercise. Steve loved that particular trail and was beyond enthusiastic given any opportunity to show it off. It was special and Danny didn't doubt the genuine nature of the kind offer granted to his daughter. Despite all of that, hiking wasn't personally something on Danny's top ten list, and he was rather surprised that his own daughter had fallen under her Uncle's spell.

"A forced march?" Danny mused pensively, yet his voice had already softened. "Seriously, Monkey? It's child abuse."

"Please, Danno?" Grace had gotten off her chair to lean against his side, her arms wrapped around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. "Can you call Uncle Steve and see if he can take us? I can pack up food for a nice picnic. Please? I want to see the paintings."

"The man's a devious Neanderthal," Danny murmured under his breath without heat as he folded to his daughter's entreaty, smiling when he mentally created a certain similarity to the cave paintings in question. "I guess he is at that … besides, I wouldn't be surprised if someone in his family tree probably drew them anyway," he kissed the top of her head, nodding in agreement to her utter glee. "It's probably why he likes to look at them so much; some sort of weird family resemblance."

"What?" Grace sucked her bottom lip in, completely confused by the muffled mumbles eking out from behind Danny's hands, made more incomprehensible by his private chuckling. He had said yes, but she didn't quite hear what he'd said beyond the agreement. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Danny recovered, putting a halt to his offhand mumbling. "Yes, okay. I'll make the call, Monkey," he reiterated before puffing out a few final inaudible words. "Darn Neanderthal that he is. He'll probably eat this up."

Danny was grinning now, too. He would make the call and get their plans confirmed if Steve had the time to spend with them that weekend. "I'll call him after we finish breakfast and see if he's willing to take us on this forced march into madness. Then if he agrees, you can raid the kitchen and see what we need for this picnic of yours!"

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

 

Steve groaned as he shifted his upper body. As dawn approached in earnest, night sounds slowly gave way to early morning birds but the threat of humidity had increased at an alarming rate. The Marquis was damp with night's perspiration which had begun to first trickle down the side of the dusty metal before starting on a path to evaporation. His own shirt was damp from sweat and the cool morning dew, and he shivered uncomfortably knowing he'd be warmer soon. But likely much too warm as the sun blazed higher and hotter overhead.

The battery on his cell phone was long worn down and he could only hear birds and the sounds of distant surf from the beach. He was dreadfully alone and continuing to sweat from both stress and now the rising temperatures as a new day hotly dawned.

"Hey!" Steve swallowed hard, his mouth was sticky-dry and his ankle was a seething block of endless agony. Wriggling his semi-dulled toes did virtually nothing now except to send spikes of pain more firmly up into his calf muscle and knee. He wasn't fully dehydrated quite yet, but he would soon be approaching a desperate place that same day as the airlessness increased in the warm aluminum building.

"Damned tin can," He cursed again, coughing as the acrid smell of motor oil and grease rose from the dirt. The shed was old and had been used for countless years by his father for all kinds of mechanical repair. Lawn mowers, cars and miscellaneous other handiwork, such as carpentry or painting, had been conducted in the place since before he could remember. Paint cans littered one corner and Steve made a face as he realized the myriad of dangers which he lay amongst.

"Gotta clean this place up," he muttered as he squirmed in place. "Damned fire hazard."

In all that time, the shed had never been cleaned out and so, eons worth of filth had built up on its stained dirt floor. Layers of grime caked itself onto ancient, rusty metal walls. None of that had ever been a problem for the men in the McGarrett household until that very moment; not until Steve was forced into laying for hours only inches away from centuries worth of trampled chemicals.

"Hey!" He needlessly tried to shout for help. Perhaps now more fearful than he had ever been as each hour dragged by at a tedious pace. "Hey! Somebody!"

He committed another exercise in futility, but that unfamiliar tendril of fear was beading closer to the surface, just like the old oil stains were as heat drew them to the top of the hard-pack. After awhile, he drifted again, much as he had throughout the night. Sleeping fitfully and then waking with a start had been his norm when dreams or sounds became too much to bear. He dozed miserably in his distress, his right hand clenched around the bunched material nearest his right knee as if he could make the cramped knots leave. He hissed as his thigh suddenly bunched and in reaction, he instantly used the heel of his palm to viciously paw at the bound muscles.

"Come on," Steve murmured soundlessly into the air. All he could smell was motor oil and dank scents of mildew. Though in a way it was still true, his one-time observation that things could be much worse without the luxury of laying on the creeper, now stuck firmly in his throat. Things had become bad enough and he didn't care to dwell on anything else.

Steve's eyelids dipped once, twice and then closed wearily. He was tired, his lower back ached, his ankle burned and the knots in his calf were unreachable. Without warning, his toes curled painfully inside his boot. "Oh man," he groaned as a severe cramp seized his calf muscle to make him gasp out loud.

His eyes flew open in response, but he was unable to do anything to relieve its horrific constriction of muscles made worse by lack of adequate hydration. "Someone's got to come," Steve groaned as he feebly used both hands now to claw up into a seated position. In his pain and anxiety, he pulled and tore on his right leg in desperation. He gained no ground as he tugged; only causing himself more pain when his leg remained obstinately stuck in place. He needed help and he needed it to arrive that very minute as he fell limply back to the padded surface of the creeper.

His eyes closed again, this time to avoid staring at the bland aluminum ceiling which seemed to ripple from the rising temperatures. He could literally feel the heat leaking in from the distant doorway where it swirled towards him on short puffed waves. He shuddered in reaction when the humid draft seemed to purposefully seek him out.

"Please." What he was experiencing was overwhelming and Steve was too drained of energy to even react to the next painful leg spasm. He could only lay there panting in misery until it released him of its own accord. "Please … this isn't … happening. _Please_."

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	4. Chapter 4

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

**Chapter Four**

 

"I'm almost done. Did Uncle Steve call back yet, Danno?" Grace shouted from the kitchen where she had managed to rifle through her father's refrigerator and pantry, happily finding more than enough to cobble together a decent picnic lunch for three.

"No. Not yet!" Danny hollered back from his bedroom where he was searching for a spare jacket. Just in case the crystal blue sky decided to become fickle; because if he was hiking, it surely would rain regardless of the sunny weather forecast.

"We only need to stop for drinks!" Grace shouted next, laughing as her father rounded the corner into the kitchen. She was hollering for nothing now based on his overly dramatic wince.

"We'll stop at the deli near your Uncle Steve's house," Danny confirmed, waggling his cell phone warningly because his partner had yet to return his messages. "But, be warned that Uncle Steve's phone is still going right to voicemail, Monkey. He may not even be home."

Her face fell in abject disappointment, but in reality, Danny's own mind was running rampant. At first, he merely thought Steve might be swimming. But the more that time elapsed without a returned call from his voicemail messages, the more he felt discomforted by the oddity of it.

"We're going to swing by his house," Danny said. "We'll try the old fashioned way of announcing ourselves by ringing the doorbell." He felt better committing to the personal visit. Something felt decidedly wrong because none of their cell phones would ever be turned off or be allowed to run out of battery. It was an unspoken rule that their mechanical lifelines always be on and accessible regardless of day or night.

"Okay," Grace replied happily, more sure that Steve would be available than having last minute plans of his own. " We just need drinks then. Maybe Uncle Steve is still swimming?"

Danny _hmm'd_ a soft acknowledgment, but he was worried and now distracted. He suddenly felt desperate to get over to Steve's house more than to see if the man wanted to go on a simple picnic-hike in the park.

"Ready, Monkey? Let's go," Danny scooped his car keys off the counter. He felt an urgency pushing him so hard that he didn't want to stop for drinks either as he slung the backpack Grace had prepared over his shoulder. Something was definitely off and in his anxiety, he nearly trotted out to the Camaro leaving Grace far behind. He drove faster than usual. Then he murmured something under his breath about the waste of time, yet in the end, they did stop for drinks at the small store closest to Steve's house. More so, that five minute delay for beverages was for Grace's sake because she was picking up on his overly agitated demeanor.

"Do you think something's really wrong?" Grace asked, her face now extremely serious as Danny insisted she stay in the car while parked in Steve's driveway. He stared in confusion at the big blue Silverado truck resting calmly where it rightly should. It meant that Steve was indeed home, but why he'd not answered his cell phone, turned it on or kept it duly charged made little sense.

"It's probably nothing," Danny tried to reassure her, but failed when she saw that he was indeed wearing his gun belt after having retrieved it from the glove compartment. "It's just for precaution, Monkey. Just in case ... and I want you to stay here until I say so."

"Okay, Danno," Grace sank glumly down in the passenger seat. The big backpack was anchored in her arms and she didn't say another word as she watched her father carefully approach the front door. She could see by the hunch in shoulders and the way he stiffened warily that he certainly didn't approve of the house being unlocked when the door swung open so easily.

Danny growled under his breath when he tried the front door and found it unlocked. No doubt the alarm was off, too. With a quick glance to reassure himself that his daughter was still in the car, he entered the silent house. He drew his gun only when Grace wouldn't be able to see the scary action from where she sat and then he cleared each room from bottom to top, then back again.

"Steve!" He called out loudly upon completing his task, baffled by the utter stillness and lack of anything out of place. The bed hadn't been slept in or was already made up for the day. Of which to choose, he couldn't quite be sure. But there was no food in the kitchen from either a previous night's dinner or a breakfast. On a peaceful Saturday, there should have at least been leftover coffee in the carafe. However, he was left to glower suspiciously at the glass because it was spotlessly clean.

"Shit," Danny murmured when he spied Steve's truck keys, badge and then the leather wallet all left openly on the counter. It was obvious that something was indeed off; very wrong in fact. "Steve!" He shouted again, worry sending the hair on his neck sky-high as his call went unanswered and the warnings of trouble trilled in his head.

"Steven!" Shoving the lanai doors open, Danny strode rapidly outside to gaze up and down the beach front. But there was no sign of his friend anywhere. His distressed cursing boomed darkly as he bolted back through the house to retrieve Grace, fully on edge to have left her unattended in the Camaro.

"Grace, hey." He modulated his tone to something more normal, relieved to no short degree when she hesitantly waved to him from her anxious perch on the edge of the passenger seat.

"Is Uncle Steve here?" She asked as he reached the passenger side of the car to open the door for her. Her face was crestfallen as her father's serious nature communicated his own ongoing alarm.

"It's too hot to stay in the car," Danny failed on soothing her when she felt his more severe tension circulating around his very being. She knew that something seemed out of place to him and she unconsciously adopted his emotional stress level. "No, I haven't found him yet … come on in though."

"Where is he?" Grace asked, touting the heavy backpack into Steve's house. "Did something happen? Could he be out swimming? Maybe a walk or he went for a run?"

"I don't know, Monkey," Danny sighed, dragging a hand uselessly over his face as he once more gazed around the first floor of the house. Nothing was adding up until his eyes met Grace's and she gasped out loud before voicing their mutual conclusion.

"The shed!" She blurted the obvious around a broadly beaming smile. "I bet he's working on the old car!" She dropped the backpack and was gone before Danny could react, thundering out the lanai and pelting across the grassy expanse. "Uncle Steve!"

"Grace! Hold up!" A terrible thought crossed his mind and Danny cursed, stumbling over the backpack she'd carelessly abandoned on the floor. "Damn it!" He tripped badly and nearly fell in his haste, but she was already gone.

 _Of course, the shed ... the car._ With his heart suddenly in his mouth from a fearful trepidation, Danny's eyes widened in complete understanding. _God ... the Marquis ... the new mechanics creeper._ Steve couldn't wait to get his hands on it. As if he could literally hear it happening in his head, each of the strangely missing pieces slid into place with a terrible clarity.

"Steve," Danny's breath hitched, but he was already regaining his feet and rounding the dining room table when he heard her first frightened shout. On the heels of her second, he was bursting through the lanai doors and retracing her very footsteps towards the distant shed. "Grace, stop ...!"

_"Danno! Help!"_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

 

 _"Uncle Steve? Are you okay? Uncle Steve … wake up."_ A small feather-like breeze caressed his cheek and Steve trembled at the touch. His doze had become a sickly sleep of sorts and he was having difficulty waking. Her voice reached him as a nonsensical lilting sound and instead of rousing, he sank deeper down into the peaceful promise of the dream. There was a teary quality to the childish tone, something sweet but also sad, and he almost smiled. He thought he should say something or even apologize, but Steve couldn't find the energy to do more than listen to the fragile words.

 _"Uncle Steve? Danno can help … he will."_ He frowned when his beleaguered brain made slow sense of the sniffles and watery syllables. Steve thought he understood the important words, yet he was still slow to react; much too slow to understand that help at truly arrived. _"Danno will know what to do."_

 _Grace?_ Seconds later, whomever Steve thought he felt or sensed was gone before he could even consider getting his eyes opened to acknowledge he had indeed heard Danny's daughter at all.

The loss created a sudden hole at the same instant his eyes sprung open, however he only could see the same rusted-out aluminum ceiling. The shed was hotter than before, much too hot, and he felt incredibly light-headed in its stagnant heat.

"Grace?" Steve whispered her name, his frown growing only in intensity when he looked to where she might have been crouched by his shoulder ... and saw no one. Confused and lethargic, what he thought he might have sensed seemed enough of a dream where he now doubted what he'd heard ... or even felt. With a dismal moan, his eyelids flagged. The ceiling of the shed shimmered brightly and then blurred into a mist before blinking out entirely.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	5. Chapter 5

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

**Chapter Five**

 

"No. Stay awake," Steve argued with himself as he sunk deeper into a dark fugue. He mouthed the words, barely capable of moving his lips as his face creased in painful concentration. "No." Knowing that giving in to sleep would become a terrible mistake, his whisper gained strength as he hoarsely reprimanded himself out loud. "Don't you ... fall sleep. Don't."

He ground the tips of his fingers purposefully into his knee to painfully pry himself back up to awareness. Anger rolled through him and he used it to force his eyes to stay open, hanging on desperately to the dream and hoping it was so much more. The ceiling flickered back into a blurry but very solid state. It had to have been Grace and Steve mentally berated himself for doubting the ghostly visitation because he still felt her soft touch on his cheek. It lingered along with a pleasant scent that out-weighed that of stringent motor oil.

"Gracie?" He unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth to whisper her name, vaguely aware that meant he was certainly becoming more and more dehydrated. Bleary-eyed, Steve idly rubbed the back of his neck where a dull thudding of a dangerous headache had taken up residence. He felt sick and was beyond tired, almost willing to allow the pull of an evil sleep to take him more easily with each passing second.

"Danny? Grace?" He nearly choked their names out in a stunned rasp when he found himself alone, doubting again that he'd felt the soft touch and the promise of help. No, he was sure she'd just been there as the subtle smell of flowers wafted in the air. Steve's gut clenched and he nearly coughed around a shout that died angrily in his throat ... until he clearly heard her again.

 _"Danno! Help!"_ She was there and shouting crazily for her father. The tears in her voice were quite real as her words ebbed and flowed from the outside. _"The shed … Uncle Steve is stuck ... the car ... Danno, he's in the shed!"_

"Danny!" Steve tried to wet his gummed lips unable to relax at the prospect of help having truly arrived. His adrenalin-driven response had his heart beating off kilter in his chest and grew his headache instantly to flare into the epic size of a migraine. None of that was important though as the happy sound of very real voices finally reached his ears.

"Damn it ... Danny!" Groaning against the pain in his head which made his hazy reflection in the Marquis swim even more, Steve painfully levered himself to a half-seated position, ears straining at every distant sound. Sweat had dampened his hair and soaked into his t-shirt at an alarming rate. The shed had to be approaching a midpoint of ninety-five degrees or more, and he was beyond overheated and trembling as an odd chill leaked deep in his core.

Steve coughed and used his arm to sloppily wipe the stickiness of drying sweat from his cheeks. His voice wasn't projecting at all past the body of the old car, but he couldn't help himself when he heard the two voices approaching where he lay mired under the metal frame. Adrenalin spiked, killing any and all desire to sleep.

"Danny! Grace!" He strained to see over the Marquis' trunk and a raspy laugh burst from his mouth when he saw the familiar shape that filled the shed's doorway. "Thank god."

"What the … hell?" Danny suddenly appeared at the rear of the car, his hand gently skidding across it's dusty surface, to leave splayed tracks. Completely speechless, he was clearly stunned by his partner's condition. For a moment, Danny stood stock-still by the rear bumper, trying to process what he was seeing despite what he knew he might find once the realization dawned inside the house. Laying before him and draped limply across the creeper, Steve was a _smiling_ rumpled, filthy mess with both legs disappearing scarily underneath his lopsided car.

"Steve? How … long have you been out here?" He stammered afraid to know the truth, genuinely worried that his friend had suffered some grievous crushing injury. "How … _how bad_ … are you hurt?"

"I didn't … I didn't think anyone would … would come," Steve pushed out as Danny dropped to his knees by his side, his hands rapidly moving over his torso and measuring the level of distress emanating from Steve's pained expression.

"When did this happen? How badly are you hurt?" Picking up speed, Danny's eyes were beyond concerned as he traced Steve's legs down as far as he could reach. His eyes closed in anticipation and he shuddered expecting to at least feel the sticky warmth of Steve's blood despite not having seen any just yet, amazed though when his search came up fairly clean.

"I can't reach far enough to feel your whole leg. Steve, what the hell happened? When?" Over his shoulder, Danny hurtled orders to Grace without really waiting for either of them to answer while he insisted that Steve lay flat on the creeper. "Grace, go to the house and call 911; tell them we need an ambulance and fire department."

"Danno," Steve whispered, a grateful smile playing happily across his face. He was bone-tired and distressingly thirsty, but relieved beyond all feasible belief. Blissfully happy, he watched the blonde head as it disappeared momentarily from view in another vain attempt to see where his long legs ended under the carriage of his car.

"Your legs?" Danny tried again, his head popping up after determining what his friend likely already knew. Steve's right leg was firmly wedged, but he couldn't see or feel anything enough to assess any real damage. "How long have you been out here?"

"I'm pretty sure ... that my right ankle ... is just stuck near ... the jack," he explained on a raspy whisper, mildly amused by Danny's disbelieving reaction. "It happened ... yesterday around five or ... maybe even, six o'clock. So, don't ... take this the wrong way …." Steve wheezed, his hand finding Danny's to relay his utmost relief at being found. Danny's mouth had gaped open as he mentally calculated the substantial block of time in his head, hardly able to believe what Steve was saying by each slowly enunciated word. "… but why ... are you here?"

"Grace wanted to go see the petroglyphs. Your phone kept going to voicemail and … it's not something you would do," Danny replied in a stunned monotone as he distractedly ran his hands over Steve's torso, felt the heat streaming off him in waves, and cursed again as he focused on the trapped right leg.

"Petroglyphs?" Steve whispered, his tired smile actually strengthening. "Really ...?"

"Yesterday? You've been out here since ... last night?" Stuck on a single thought, Danny interrupted him though, his face contorting painfully when Steve simply nodded. "We stopped by because you're never out of touch like this … never. The house wasn't locked up … I didn't know what had happened," he rushed through his explanation, his distress almost on a par with Steve's own. "I was worried," he admitted, allowing Steve to see the gun strapped around his waist to prove just how extreme his feelings had become.

"Glad ... you were," Steve smiled wearily, wincing as Danny found the knotted muscles in his thigh and calf. He groaned when Danny tried to reach further down the trapped right leg, barely hearing the annoyed curses as Danny also failed at being able to see or feel beyond his lower calf. "Don't worry ... nothing's broken ... I'm just ... stuck."

"Only stuck? Well, guess what ... I'm still worried!" Danny blurted the truth out as he glared uncomprehendingly at Steve's predicament and ongoing ability to dare to smile. "Don't worry, he says! Are you sure nothing's broken?" he asked, the monotone disappearing as stress took over. "I can't reach or see too much. And why are you _smiling_?"

"Stupid freak accident … the jack slipped …. I got stuck," Steve muttered, then carefully added his frightening realization in a hushed whisper. The simplicity of his description did nothing for Danny's state of alarm which only kept the crooked grin on Steve's lips. "I really thought I'd be here 'til Monday; and it's really hot now. I ran out of options, Danno."

"Shit, Steven!" Danny's eyes widened in astonishment, now horrified at the threat of that actually having happened if Grace hadn't come up with her suggestion for a hike. "It's been hours already; anything could have happened. You're a damned trouble magnet! You know that?"

"Yeah." Raspy and dusty-dry, Steve _laughed_ out right in agreement. He coughed dryly, and then laughed again. Danny's eyes-narrowed a millisecond before his entire face darkened. Things were bad enough with his best friend stuck under a tank of an old car, not to mention the small shed itself, which was a cloyingly airless cell. In just the few minutes Danny had been there, he had already found the quarters too close and beyond stifling. His ire rose exponentially as Steve smirked and then actually _laughed at him._

"I fail to see what's so funny here, Steven," Danny ground out between clenched teeth.

"Just ... well, nothing. I'm really fine, Danno. I'm only a bit ... stuck," Steve soothed around a smile that left him breathless when Danny paled as too many upsetting thoughts cascaded though his brain. Within seconds, he was vocalizing almost each one much to Steve's ongoing delight.

"Fine? You call this _fine_?" Danny's jaw worked from side to side for a number of minutes before he pursed his lips in total disbelief. "This is not fine, Steven! You have a two thousand pound car on your leg."

"They're coming," Grace said, reappearing by the trunk of the big Marquis just in time to hear her father's upset words about the size of the impressive car. "Uncle Steve? Are you hurt bad?"

Her eyes were continually welling with tears by the sight of his sweat-streaked dirty face and the obvious fact that something had happened while he was working on his old car. Despite his smile, she stared warily at his legs and how they disappeared from view, not quite able to ask the obvious question because she was afraid of the answer.

"I'm just stuck, Gracie," Steve replied evenly, stopping to vainly dampen his dry lips. "My ankle is wedged tight ... on something ... and since there's not enough room to see ... I can't get out without help. So, I can't tell you ... how very happy I am ... to see you. We'll go hiking next time."

"Steven," Danny clenched his fists, daring his partner to say just one more time that he was merely _fine_. He pouted, grimaced and then pointed towards the long length of the heavy Marquis.

"There is a _car_ on your leg," Danny hissed under his breath. "It's an oven in here. This looks a bit worse than _stuck_ to me."

"Calm down," Steve whispered back just as cocked his head meaningfully towards Grace. His next words were meant for both father and daughter as their mutual concern escalated. "Seriously. I'm sore and thirsty, but I'm okay. Now that you're both here … I'm really fine."

At a loss of how to help, Grace was vacillating weirdly between terrified and amused as her eyes flew from one to the other. Anything she wanted to say never got beyond the tightness in her throat.

"So, tell me. How was the concert?" Steve fought for a common ground and a happier conversation, but much to his consternation, Grace's distraught face fell even more. His smile wilted in kind and his eyes widened when Grace looked like she might truly burst into tears.

"What did I say wrong?" Steve hoarsely whispered to Danny.

"It was canceled," Danny growled out softly. His fingers fisted together spasmodically for a moment as an uncomfortable silence added to the stifling volume of heat in the shed. "The concert was postponed ... until further notice."

"Oh, ummm, …" Steve winced in response, but he'd begun the terrible path and so he continued. "Wow, I'm sorry. Why? What happened?"

"Laryngitis," Grace whispered, still upset and swinging wildly between a number of arguing emotions. "She can't even talk, so they canceled the concert. Danno says we'll go once the its been rescheduled."

"Well, that sort of thing happens," Steve offered lamely as he peered into Danny's reddened face. "Right?"

"Just a like a car falling on your leg? Like that sort of _thing_ just happens?" Danny muttered under his breath, tension blatantly leaching across his face. His eyes squinted narrowly as he watched a bead of sweat trace down Grace's cheek. In similar fashion, his back was drenched under his shirt and he rounded once more on his partner driven by a terrified concern. "It's an oven in here, Steve. It's hotter than hell, babe."

"I know, but ... calm down," Steve whispered softly for a second time. "Just … I'm glad you're here. I'm glad that you're both here, Danno."

"Yeah," Danny nodded. "We are, too." Without actually looking at his daughter, he beat down his worrisome instincts to finally sigh in some type of acceptance to regain his focus. "Okay, okay," he muttered, backing off his verbal tirade and lowering his voice for Grace's sake. He took a deep settling breath and then completely changed gears.

"I'd like to get this car off your leg, but we're going to have to wait for at least the EMT's to get here. Just in case … you're not … you _know_ … not entirely _fine_. How bad does it hurt?"

"It … hurts," Steve admitted, pointing over his head and towards the water bottle which sat so teasingly on the long worktable. "But water … I really need to drink something. Now."

At the desperate request, Danny lurched to his feet, newly upset to see the unopened water bottle and the cellphone so far out of reach from his partner's hands. Though he was far from happy, what he was seeing easily explained everything. "You're dehydrated already."

"Probably. Yes. My legs are cramping and my back. My ankle's on fire from being in the same position, but I don't think it's actually broken. I'm hot. Need water … need a drink. _Something_. I have to get out of here, Danno," Steve's voice ended on a raspy plea as his physical woes came to the fore. He was tired of being _tired_ and exhausted by being unable to move.

His smile remained genuine, though now he was aiming it pleadingly in Danny's direction and not just for the water bottle retrieved from the shelf. He wanted out from under the Marquis and he wanted it that very minute despite the faint sounds of sirens he was already hearing in the distance.

"Do we have to wait?" Steve knew the answer since he'd make the same decision in Danny's position. He didn't think his ankle was broken or even bleeding, but with the volume of pain so much worse as each minute ticked by, even he wasn't sure anymore.

"Yeah, we have to," Danny softly confirmed, an arm now around Steve's shoulders to support his seated position. Heat radiated from his body and Danny scowled, but didn't dare do more until additional hands arrived to help. EMT's or fire department - Danny would work with either entity arriving first. "It won't take long, and we're not taking any chances." He thrust the water bottle into Steve's hands, trusting that his friend would drink slowly.

"God, that's better," Steve said after a number of small methodical sips of water, more content now that help at truly arrived. The water was warm, yet it was clean and refreshingly _wet_ so he could honestly care less about its ambient temperature. As Danny propped him up, muttering nonsensical worries and sighing plaintively under his breath, everything was suddenly truly fine.

Steve leaned into his friend, smiling since their arrival was all enough to calm his heart which was finally clawing itself back down to its customary beat from its rapid race. "Thank you," Steve whispered with a sigh that completely released hours worth of tension. "My head hurts," he admitted as fatigue started to get the better of him once more. He suddenly wanted to sleep again and wilted after whispering the truth. "I'm tired."

"Lay back down and rest. But try not to fall asleep," Danny quietly urged as Steve's upper body sagged in his arms and his eyes wearily closed. "Neanderthal, you're dehydrated and anything could have happened," he whispered just loud enough for Steve to hear, managing to grin when Steve chuffed a small pleased sound. Within seconds, the sirens were definitely within Steve's neighborhood and the increasing noise spurred Danny to more action.

"Just a few more minutes, then you're out of here." Danny left his hand on Steve's shoulder to keep him in place as he gestured Grace to his side. "Monkey, come here and stay with Uncle Steve. Hold the water bottle in case he needs more."

"Where are you going?" Steve forced his eyes open, not really realizing that they had closed in the first place.

"We need a second jack and I'll bring the medics to the shed. I'll be right back … I want to get the jack from your truck or my car so we're ready once the EMT's give the okay," Danny smiled reassuringly, with a final settling touch to his shoulder. "Don't want to waste any time getting you out of here, partner. I think you'd agree?"

"Yeah. Okay." Steve relaxed, sinking into the padded frame of the creeper. Grace was holding the water bottle and had already taken Danny's place, but her expression included her father's disapproving frown down to the quirky tilt of one eyebrow.

"You could have gotten really hurt," Grace whispered as her father left them on a fast run. "It's hot in here, too." Her eyes were liquid brown and full of a frightened worry all on his behalf.

"I'm perfectly okay," Steve vowed, taking her hand in his though he was grimy from working on the car and his long overnight stay. Her presence kept him focused and more alert, largely since she was so very upset. "Especially now since you and Danno showed up. I promise."

"You're really dirty," Grace whispered as if filling him in on a big secret. Her clean fingers were now marred by smudges of dirt but it made her smile and she clung to him more tightly. Her nose wrinkled cutely as she measured his sweat-stained face and the lines of black smudgy grease he'd inadvertently rubbed across one cheek and his forehead. "You need a shower, Uncle Steve."

"You think so, Gracie?" Steve grinned back as she provided a solemn nod. With the throb of his headache momentarily forgotten, he laughed, squeezing her fingers gently in his. "I think so too."

Just the thought of a nice shower was a luxury and he could barely wait for the real thing as the sweltering heat increased around them. Even Grace's face was shining from the humidity in the enclosed space. With his mouth merely moistened and his headache banging relentlessly behind his eyes, Steve didn't want to consider what might have happened if the two hadn't shown up when they did.

"They're here!" Her eyes widened happily when the sirens finally wailed to a stop from the front of the house. Within minutes, Grace was scooting out of the way for the two EMT's and for her father who had two spare car jack's in each hand. He had also pilfered their picnic lunch for the sports drinks purchased at the local deli. Steve desperately needed the electrolytes and Danny grinned at the grateful murmur of never-ending thanks after he plunked the bottle into his friend's waiting hands.

"Take your time with that," he admonished before ushering his daughter towards the shed's door. "Grace, wait outside until we're done," Danny ordered much to Grace's dismay. She tried to object, but was easily overruled as the two medics swarmed either side of Steve to prove her father's case. "There's not too much room in here, Monkey, and the medics need the space to work."

"This looks like fun, Commander," one EMT remarked dryly as he hunkered down over Steve's body. "I bet you're about done with this old car - in more ways than one?"

"You have no idea how done I am," Steve said as he offered his arm for the requisite blood pressure cuff and quieted as the EMT anchored a stethoscope to his ears. The second EMT was already swabbing his free arm to run fluids based upon temperature in the shed alone.

"He's dehydrated, but his vitals aren't too bad considering how long he's been trapped," the man remarked to his counterpart before the two eyed the disappearing right leg blocked firmly under the car's undercarriage. "A couple more hours like this though and you'd be in a boat-load of trouble. Headache? Cramping? Can you at least wiggle your toes on your foot?"

"Yup, to all of the above," Steve affirmed, wincing as the movement of his toes created a reactive muscle cramp in his calf. He paused to take a minuscule sip of the sports drink. Even a small amount soothed his throat and moistened his tongue just enough to remove layers of cloyingly dry stickiness. "I'm really thirsty ... bad headache ... and I'm tight from being stuck so long in the same spot."

"Alright. I can't see or feel anything under there, so let's get this done," the EMT nodded towards Danny, giving him permission to set the second jack to lift the car enough so Steve could be extricated. "Unless you want to wait?"

"Not waiting," Steve affirmed first. His hand flailed towards Danny who was already moving. "Do it. Just do it."

"Okay. Go slow and steady so we can assess along the way," the EMT said to Danny. "Let's make sure nothing else shifts in the wrong direction." His next instructions were for Steve as he made himself absolutely clear.

"But you; I don't want you to do a single thing during any of this," the warning finger was aimed directly in Steve's face. "We need to make sure their's no other injuries and you could do yourself more harm than good if you try to help. Just let us do all the work until we see where you're at."

 _Compartment syndrome_ were two frightening words which came to mind as Danny listened to the medics' patter while multitasking. _Amputation_ came next and then distressingly Danny pondered a frightening spray of blood as an artery was breached.

"Damn it," Danny scolded himself under his breath as every extreme scary thought flittered alarmingly through his mind. Another vision had the old Mercury Marquis lurching like Stephen King's possessed red Plymouth Fury, Christine, to squash his own head and shoulders under its big mass without a shred of mercy. The medic was quite right about going carefully to avoid a disastrous shift in the large vehicle's bulk. In reality, some relative form of danger for any of those scenarios was very real and Danny was anxious as he focused on locating a solid base to lay his second jack. Most of all, he was worried that Steve was downplaying his predicament; unable to stop other scary scenarios from leaking to the fore where Steve's lower leg would be literally mangled beyond repair once the old Marquis was lifted high enough.

"Almost there," Danny said, his voice muffled from where he lay under the elevated portion of the front-end. He was squirreled on his chest, pushing and fitting the second car jack under what he thought was a decent part of the metal frame. He prodded and grunted uncomfortably, inhaling the pungent stench of old motor oil and musty dirt. Within a few short minutes, he was already coated in sweat and dried muck as he made his fingers ensure the jack was seated solidly.

"Ready," he finally announced, shimmying out to kneel with his eyes flickering worriedly from Steve to those of the medics. "I don't think we need more than a few inches of space and then you two can use the creeper to do the rest."

"Perfect idea, go for it. But slowly," the older medic agreed as took one side of the creeper and his partner the opposite. The two nodded as one as their strong hands closed around the black metal framework and Danny grasped the bar to the new jack. "We're ready on three."

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	6. Chapter 6

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

**Chapter Six**

 

Their count was timed perfectly to Danny's stubbornly determined motions to force the heavy Marquis skywards the few inches needed to free its captive. The old car squealed and groaned in protest despite its short journey and Steve gasped, his eyes closing to blink back a flood of reactive tears as the two medics simply spun him out from where he'd been trapped. The movement of the creeper combined with the rapid freeing of his leg left him dizzy, forcing his eyes closed as his hearing momentarily fizzled into a disconcerting whiteout.

 _"Commander?"_ The medic. But the buzzing in his head increased, rendering him helpless to answer in lieu of a distressing wave of dizziness which conjured up old remembered late nights resulting in disastrous alchohol-induced bed spins. Except for the fact that this time, he lacked the fun of the previous night's antics. Plus, having even a combination of water and sports drink rattling in his stomach - no matter how small the amount - was suddenly feeling less than pleasant.

 _"Steven?"_ Of course, Danny would be right there after easing the car back down. Steve was breathing hard and unable to answer either the medic or Danny in order to force the nausea down as his right leg was palpitated. Now that he was free, the medics were focused intently on investigating the soundness and general health of the damaged limb.

"Yeah, Danny," Steve finally started to talk and was just about to win the battle against the nausea when his boot was unlaced for gentle fingers to begin assessing whatever unnamed damage might suddenly be found. Prickly spikes of heated pain made him slam his mouth closed to focus on controlling his desire to jerk his leg away.

"Steve? How are you doing?" Danny was crouched down behind Steve's head, a hand glued to each of his shoulders as he watched the two medics pour their attention over his friend's right lower leg and ankle. "Guys? How is he?"

From Danny's vantage, and other than being covered in oily grime, there was no blood or obvious signs of an injury except for the medics' combined attention. But no one was talking and so, his stress level began to skyrocket enough for his fingers to grip Steve's shoulders more tightly than intended.

"It's still there," Danny murmured faintly.

"Thanks for that, Danno. I can tell," Steve eventually ground out through gritted teeth as the gentle fingers probed a bit more deeply and he grimaced in reaction. He reached up with his left hand to reassuringly tap one of Danny's in kind, then he wiggled his toes when asked and duly answered each question to the EMT's satisfaction. Though his head throbbed in synch to his heartbeat, the world had righted to its normal self and even his resentful stomach was happily cooperating. "Hurts … but I'm good … it's okay."

"You're right. It looks good, Commander, and the digital pulse seems decent," the first medic stated his initial approval before adding a wise caveat. Before voicing it though, he glanced up when shadows blocked the light from the doorway. The fire department had arrived, along with reinforcements from the police department who had recognized the Commander's personal home address from Grace's frantic call for help.

"What do you need?" A fireman asked, squinting in the dim light to, at minimum, see that the injured man had been freed.

"He's out ... we're about to move him and get him out of this hot-box. Overall, things are looking fairly good," the EMT replied, easily. "Well, good enough for a tentative diagnosis that nothing seems to be outwardly broken."

He turned his attention back towards Steve with a satisfied smile. "You've sustained bruising, a decent amount of swelling and just about anything can be lurking underneath that I can't necessarily feel. We'll take you in so the docs in the ER can do their thing; count on an x-ray or two to be sure. Plus, you need to cater to your body's need for hydration."

"Lucky," Danny drilled his fingers into Steve's shoulders as relief flooded his entire body. His partner looked terrible from the filthy face to the exhaustion which creased both of his eyes. Steve was overheated under his hands and sticky with sweat. The thick smells of a well-used and aged workshop only made the entire situation worse than it seemed to be; and for that, Danny was happily relieved because Steve would be fine.

"Damned lucky; I thought your ankle was cut in half under this behemoth of yours," Danny said, moving aside now for the medics to take over.

"Told you ... just stuck," Steve gave him an upside-down half grin, pleased that the medics were optimistic about what he first thought had happened. "It would have been much worse if you hadn't decided to come. I'm so glad you two showed up when you did."

"No kidding." The loud snort of acknowledgment from the older medic clearly concurred as he and his partner carefully propped Steve up between them while still seated on the creeper. The rescuers were not enjoying the stifling heat inside the old shed and they'd only been suffering it for less than twenty minutes.

"If sitting isn't too bad, do you think you can stand and then hop out to the gurney without putting any weight on your foot?" The first asked as Steve raised his arms willingly to be helped at least to one foot.

"Absolutely," Steve was rallying despite the sway to his body and the way each of his joints protested, or the way his back and legs seized as muscles remembered how to work. He was more sore than he anticipated though, with pins and needles shooting up and down his spine and into the backs of his thighs.

"Wait," he murmured as the real change to a standing position prompted a severe bout of unsteadiness. "Wait ... wow." He stood for a long moment, anchored by two sets of strong arms as his body combatted another surprising flush of vertigo. He vaguely heard Danny's voice and then the two EMT's speaking, but he failed to utter a word. Moments later, he wasn't given an opportunity to reply as his head sagged forward and he felt himself literally lifted off the ground.

More hands supported those of the EMT's as he left the heat of the shed and entered the bright sunshine, then was touted on to a shady area where a gurney awaited. He moaned as the light pierced even his closed eyelids and worsened the migraine to previously unknown levels. He gagged and coughed, brow furrowed and yet still arguing as he was laid flat and an oxygen mask was held firmly held in place over his nose and mouth.

He came to himself just outside the ambulance with Danny anxiously pacing a scuffed hole in the pavement. He had Grace by the hand and frightened tears were now officially streaming down her face. He was once more in the shade and the EMT's were anxiously catering to his needs, but the bright sunlight continually made him wince as his headache drilled the base of his skull.

"Grace, it's okay," Steve's whisper was hoarse, but he was wholly remorseful at having caused her fear to escalate. "I'm okay, sweetie."

"No, you're a mess." Danny noted, not too unkindly. He let a long shallow breath of air pass over his lips as he watched Steve regain his composure. Worsened by the brightness of the day, Steve's eyes glittered from the tell-tale ache in his head. His friend was filthy, haggard, out of sorts; acting far too compliant and Danny suspected that a true sense of thanks at being found - and even humbled by the accident - was directly to blame.

Steve didn't argue as he was dutifully strapped to the gurney for transport. That lack of attitude earned him another studious look from Danny, but frankly Steve was exhausted and willing to do anything to be away from the dour depths of his own shed. He had faith that his ankle would prove to be fine and so, he could only sigh in relief as a breeze ruffled his damp hair and lifted the neckline of his ruined t-shirt as the gurney was positioned in order to be loaded into the ambulance. His only ongoing concern was Grace as she sniffled, eyes-wide with uncertainty and sporting a face that was continually damp with tears.

"Danny," he tried to speak but was cut-off mid-sentence. Their shared look caused Steve to dare smile one last time, crinkling the smudged dirt by his eyes. Danny shook his head, but his emotions were coming back down into check as he returned the weary grin.

"Of all things, Steven," Danny's voice was lower now. Still, he lightly tossed one hand up in the air as the other cuddled his daughter comfortingly to his side. He thumbed back over his shoulder with a final weak glare lobbed towards the stifling shed where Steve might have suffered some very real trouble. "Stuck in your own damned shed … and under … _under_ … your own car? I had no idea … none."

"Like I said before, I'm beyond glad that you two swung by." His expression stayed further movement of the gurney and it communicated enough for Danny to nod in relieved agreement as he pushed Grace forward. She lurched towards the gurney to take Steve's hand, standing close enough for him to gently stroke her dark hair.

"Thank you, Grace. How about a barbecue later tonight and then a rain check on the hike?" He whispered the offer covertly with a gleam in his eye which still found its aim directly to her father.

"Yes, okay," Grace agreed softly, a tentative smile slowly breaking free. She used one hand to wipe the tears from her face, reluctant to loosen the tight hold she had on his hand with the other. He had scared her as much as he had been bordering so long on the very same feelings. A glance towards her father substantiated the same, though only the lack of diatribe proved he too was finally calming.

"We'll follow in the car," Danny promised, when the EMT's gave him a subtle signal. He walked forward to loop an arm more casually around Grace's shoulders when she was forced to separate from Steve. Though decidedly more subdued, Danny was still worried and would remain so until those he considered qualified experts looked at his friend's leg adequately enough to meet his satisfaction.

"I'm fine, Danny," Steve grinned as Danny pawed his face for the thousandth time. He smirked when he got the reaction he wanted and Danny's voice rose along to sing a tune with his right hand.

" _Almost._ You are _almost_ fine, Steve," Danny snarked back with a finger slammed in the air between them. However, an answering smile lurked devilishly below the surface based on the tone of his voice. "X-rays and whatever the ER docs deem necessary. But yeah, a barbecue sounds perfect if … and only if … you're allowed out. Afterwards, we can discuss that generous offer of a raincheck."

Steve's eyebrows raised in mock horror as his eyes met Grace's before the ambulance doors were slammed shut. She bit her lip as Steve's face disappeared from view and against her amazed giggle which spontaneously bubbled up because Danno had heard after all.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O***

 

Hours later and with his badly bruised ankle elevated on a pillow and surrounded by strategically placed ice packs, Steve sat on a lounge chair on his lanai. The sun had set long ago and Grace was comfortably cradled in his arms. He was surprised that she had decided to tuck herself onto his lap. Without a doubt, he was distinctly unable to hide his pleased smile.

As he had suspected, the doctors in the emergency room had confirmed that his ankle was merely bruised. His over-heated body was cooled and his budding issues related to dehydration were corrected with a round of fluids. Once his headache had eased, he'd even slept through part of the process, opening his eyes to find both Danny and Grace patiently waiting; and in much better mutual frames of mind. Stabilized and approved for discharge, Steve had been released with orders to rest, continue to hydrate, and take over the counter pain medications as required.

Nothing else was needed, because he was essentially fine. But in reality, he knew how very lucky he'd been.

Danny and Grace had carted him home and then gone shopping to kick off a barbecue that easily would have fed a small starving army. He would have been okay with their picnic lunch, packed with care by Grace. However, after he'd been shoe-horned into a shower and made to take a nap, father and daughter wouldn't settle for that idea. Instead, they had a full course meal after which, the three had enjoyed their time together, relaxing and joking until the stars had begun to sparkle. Even then and with eyes burning from fatigue, they were loathe to leave each other.

Steve softly sighed to acknowledge his sense of relief: there was no rust-encrusted aluminum roof that night. To his right, Danny occupied another lounge chair where he was soundly sleeping much like his daughter. Curled almost on his side, his head slumped down towards Steve as he softly snored in a content sleep.

Steve smiled, staring at Danny as his chest rose and fell almost in time to the waves he could hear lapping the shoreline. He'd ransacked Steve's drawers for a cleaner shirt to replace what he'd ruined during his crawl under the Marquis. Danny likely didn't even know what he'd selected and Steve chuffed an amused sound at the sight of the ancient Kukui High School varsity t-shirt. In his arms, Grace briefly fidgeted at his subtle movement before tucking her head under his chin. He was stuck again, but this time it was around an incredible feeling of rightness.

"Shhh," Steve whispered, happily content as he wrapped his arms around Grace's small body. He gently caressed her bare arm, smiling when she snuggled even closer.

With another measured glance towards Danny, Steve eventually allowed his own eyes to close. He was exhausted, yet continued to be reluctant to sleep. Nonetheless, the murmur of the waves was tranquil and the warm night soothing as a soft breeze came in off the water. Other than Grace's hair, he could only smell the freshness of the ocean. Without a hint of decrepit age and the sickly scent of chemicals, he was already forgetting what had happened in the shed. At least that's what he told himself as he forced his mind away from the raw memory of an unlikely accident to simply listen. Just to be sure though, he peeked up through his lashes to check on Danny one more time, before ensuring the stars were still overhead and that things were as they should be.

He inhaled deeply, gently shushing Grace again when another fidget made her fingers clench his shirt sleeve. Being fine was relative to the acceptable limits of the predicament he was in or place he was at during any given time.

However, at that moment, he was so much better than fine, his heart clenched at the feeling.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he whispered, eyes still closed. "Really, really fine." Minutes later, he too had fallen asleep with a warmly content smile curving his lips in utter peace.

_**~ END ~** _


End file.
